Dear Sabrina

Dear Sabrina,

I remember the day we ran into each other at Costco. We'd met (briefly) months before, but I didn't remember your name. You remembered mine and were so friendly and cute. You had three kids anxious to eat their pizza and a baby in a sling. It was during the lunch rush at Costco and we were blocking the traffic to the soft drinks. We quickly exchanged numbers and went our separate ways. As I was walking out to my car a few minutes later, I knew our meeting wasn't by chance. The night before I had been praying for you to come into my life. I was telling God how frustrated I was with homeschooling. The kids needed more friends. I needed more support and someone to talk to. I felt lost and frustrated. It's amazing how someone can come into your life and fill a void you didn't even really know existed.

The next day (or maybe it was two days later) we met at the park. We laughed and chatted as we pushed our toddlers on the swings. We couldn't talk fast enough-- as though we instantly understood each others sense of humor and personalities. Our older boys stood in the middle of the playground, with their arms folded and discussed Star Wars and how to create their own video games. I knew immediately that they would get along. And I felt you and I had instant chemistry as well. I told you all of my homeschooling frustrations. You listened and gave me great advice. We promised we'd get together often. And we did. We've seen each other several times each week (if not several times each day) since that afternoon in the park- which was less than a year ago. How can I possibly have known you less than a year?

I distinctly remember a conversation we had last August at your pool. The older kids were swimming together and Zack and Sylvia splashing like the wild children that they are. Once we demanded they wear floaties, we were able to relax on the side of the pool and chat. You told me (in secret) that in the next couple of years, your husband's job location might change. You were looking at a small city on the coast in California, but you didn't know how you could possibly leave Vegas. I encouraged you to think about it. Moving to a new city is such a fun adventure. The kids are young and adaptable right now. And who wouldn't want to live by the beach? Hours later, I wondered why I had been so encouraging. The last thing I wanted was for you to leave Las Vegas.

A few weeks later, you dropped off your baby while you went to a dentist appointment. I love watching Hazel because she's the most well-behaved baby on the planet. She is sweet and lovable and never cries. Only on this particular morning, she cried a lot. I think she knew it was going to be a terrible, no good, very bad day. When it was time to pick up Zack and Sylvia from preschool, I put Hazel in the car seat in my van. As soon as I snapped the buckle, I knew something was wrong. It was really tight and wouldn't adjust. I literally couldn't get her out and couldn't move the buckle. Just then, you pulled up in your van with Zack and Sylvia. You came into my garage wondering why your sweet baby was screaming bloody murder. You saw that I was squeezing the life out of her with my broken, built-in car seat. We yanked and pulled at her while she wailed. You had her feet and I twisted her head at just the right angles until we finally pulled her out. You raised her in the air and announced, "It's a GIRL!" as if she had just passed through another birth canal. We laughed and went inside. You brought me a delicious lunch and stayed while I ate it. It was then you broke the news that you were moving-- but not to California and not in two years. You were moving to Arizona. And soon. We hugged and cried.

After you left, I sobbed like a baby. The kids didn't know how to help me and kept asking what was wrong. I told them I was really, really sad because our best friends were moving. They were sad too, but reassured me several times that we could always visit you. That's true. But visiting you isn't the same as having you down the street. You are my family here. You are the person who watches my kids all night on my birthday. You drop your schedule in a heartbeat if I have something spontaneous planned. You are up for a good time no matter what. You are such a great example to me and I have learned so much from being around you and your children. I don't know how I am going to fill the void in my life now that you're gone.

I hope you and your family will love Arizona. I know Arizona will love you and your family. Enjoy the swimming pool in your new back yard and please try to keep Sylvia from drowning. You know I've saved her life more than once, so be extra cautious now that I won't be her personal life guard. I wish I could be around when Hazel's hair finally grows in. I am heartbroken that you won't be around to see my baby. Not only because I want you to meet him, but because I need you to watch my older boys when they get stir crazy in the house.

I'm going to miss Ben calling his brother "Luke S." because there won't be a "Luke V." to get him mixed up with. I am really going to miss Isabel's cartwheels in my living room. But most of all, I am going to miss you. I am so grateful for the Internet and the ability we will have to keep in touch over the years. I look forward to watching your kids grow. I can't wait to see you rake in the big bucks with your amazing artist talent. Please don't forget about me when you're rich and famous. And always remember that you taught my kids everything they ever need to know about Van Gogh, Monet, da Vinci and Picasso.

So grateful that you came into my life when you did.

Love always,
Janet

picture taken 10/29/2009 @ 8:00 pm

I had been crying for at least 2 hours prior and another hour (or two) after the going away party...

Maybe I'm so emotional because I'm very pregnant. Or maybe it's because my husband is working a lot. Maybe it's because I don't live by my family and I'm extra lonely. I told Sabrina tonight that it can't be because she's THAT great of a friend. Maybe she is.